Pretend
by Kumara and Bacon
Summary: Harry isn't in love with Ron. What's going on? Rated T for language. Pairings: Ron/Harry, Harry/Draco. SLASH.


Title: Pretend  
Disclaimer: Characters not mine, but the story is. Yada yada yada.  
A/N: This is my first chapter fic in a long time! Please show some love. Also, I need at least 5 reviews before I post the next chapter because I'm evil like that.  
Rated: PG-13 for now

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Pretending came naturally for a guy like Harry Potter.

It started with Voldemort. Harry's friends would fuss over him like mother hens, but he acted as if he knew everything would be okay; he never really knew for sure, but he wanted to ease their minds. Now Voldemort was gone, sent to hell after a furious battle. He would never come back, yet Harry still found things to pretend about.

Now he played pretend with Ron. The two had been practically attached by the hip since age eleven. Harry did love Ron dearly, but as a friend, nothing more. After the defeat of Voldemort, Ron came up to him and confessed that he was not straight as they had all believed, but that he fancied the male gender. In fact, he had been harboring feelings for Harry for a couple of years now. Ron threw himself at Lavender Brown to convince himself that he was straight. Needless to say, it didn't work. Ron _wanted _Harry. Harry had no idea how to reject his best friend, so he somehow found himself kissing his best friend. It felt like incest.

Tonight was one of the nights Harry found his lips practically glued to Ron's dry, chapped lips. Didn't Ron know of the marvelous wonders of chapstick? Kissing the Sahara Desert did not register as "fun" on Harry's list… Harry sighed and pulled away. Ron gave him a puzzled look. "Everything okay?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's great," he lied. "I'm just not really feeling this tonight." Or any other night.

"Okay, did you wanna do anything else?"

"Um, nah, I think I'm just gonna go for a walk," Harry replied lamely.

"I'll come with," Ron said. "Just let me change my shoes."

"No, I kind of want to go alone," Harry said quickly. Too quickly.

"Oh." Ron looked crest-fallen, which made Harry feel like an ass. He almost invited Ron to go with him then, but he did not feel quite that bad.

"Goodnight," Harry said, leaving the Gryffindor commons.

Harry wandered over to the lake, hands in his pockets, kicking random pebbles hidden in the grass. "Oh, Ron," he muttered to himself. "What am I going to do with you?" He leaned his head against the huge oak tree and sighed. He and Ron wouldn't be the same after this. Either they would move forward in their relationship or end it. Harry had pretended long enough, and he knew it was time to end it. "Fuck." He hit his head against the tree. "FUCK!" he screamed, stomping on the mushy, wet grass and kicking the tree as hard as he could.

He heard an applause from above him. He froze and slowly looked up to see Draco sitting on a tree branch, his feet inches from Harry's head, grinning like a prostitute with a rich client. "That was quite a performance," Draco explained. "Encore."

Heat stretched to every corner of Harry's lanky body. He thanked whoever was watching over him that it was dark, so Draco couldn't see his crimson complexion.

"Move," Draco demanded. Harry stepped aside as Draco climbed down the tree. "So, what seems to be the problem, Potter?" Draco smirked.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Harry retorted, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I already do," Draco assured Harry. "I just thought it'd be polite to let you think I didn't and ask anyway."

Harry gazed into Draco's gray eyes, trying to determine whether or not he was bluffing to irritate him. He couldn't tell. "What do you know?"

"You're gay."

"Obviously," Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"But you're not in love with Ron," Draco finished.

"Since when are we on a first name basis?"

"Since we started getting personal."

The Golden Boy stayed silent, turning away from the Slytherin Prince. Draco watched as Harry folded his arms; he bit his lip and hesitated before stepping forward, placing his hands on Harry's shoulder. He took it as a good sign when Harry didn't push him away. "I'm right, aren't I?" he whispered.

"Yeah," he croaked.

And somehow, Harry found himself locking lips with his arch-nemesis.

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_To be continued…_


End file.
